


The Sweetest (Bitterest) Summer Love Song

by puppydeanandjen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Making Out, Sam is 16, The Obligatory Summer Fic™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppydeanandjen/pseuds/puppydeanandjen
Summary: Two boys trying to keep cool on a hot summer day.





	The Sweetest (Bitterest) Summer Love Song

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the summary. It took me all day to think about what I should write and I came up with nothing. 
> 
> This came out of the left field XD and I’m actually pretty proud of it. Everything started with the idea of Sam and Dean sharing otter pops together because Otter Pop by Shawn Wasabi always puts me in the summer mood, then this shitstorm happened. Hahaha. Anyways, enjoy!

“It’s so fuckin hot,” Sam complains, sprawled-tummy up-out on the bed, with his head teetering the edge, in a damp, sticky mess of his own sweat like a puppy that yearns for attention or a belly rub. His tank top-fabric rumpling to the consistent breeze of the cheap, dingy fan that Dean bought at a garage sale nearby for only two bucks after ‘convincing’ the Barbie doll teen there-rides up to reveal the pale skin underneath that inflates and deflates to respiration. Floppy hair tickles his cheek, hand brushing it away to no avail since the wind swivels side to side, flying the strands back into position as it clings to the sheen layer of moisture. Lanky limbs are spread across the queen-sized bed that used to fit his size perfectly-hell, even with Dean curled beside him-, but his encounter with puberty had changed him in both height and voice.

 

“The owner said that they’ll send a repairman tomorrow and Dad told us to remain here until he gets back.” Dean says while he’s preparing a couple of instant ramen bowls from the gas stop. It’s way too hot for soup and Sam wishes for the Kraft Mac and Cheese that he’s eaten at least a thousand times. “So suck it up and deal with it, bitch”

 

“Whatever, jerk” Sam retorts, crawling off the mattress towards Dean because staring at the rotation of the blades is starting to make him dizzy. He’d read, but he’s read the books in his backpack cover to cover already and there’s no way he’s going into the summer Arizona heat wave to trek three miles to the nearest library. There’s a better chance of surviving a wendigo than traveling through that.

 

Sam seats himself on the chair across from Dean who’s stirring the noodles with plastic forks that he acquired at the gas station. The oversized navy shirt adheres to the heated skin which defines each muscle that creates his body. Drops of sweat trail down Dean’s pale forehead-that glistens ever so slightly-wiping them away before they could dribble down his chin. He thinks about licking each bead off because, although it’s probably disgustingly salty, it’s still _traces_ of his big brother.

 

He doesn’t know when this infatuation started because it’s been there right from the beginning. His oldest recollection is of Dean, strong and mighty and invincible, who grasped Sam’s dainty hand firmly in his own like he was afraid that his little brother would end up being battered in bruises or worse if he let go. Surroundings are a blur of shapes, but there’s definitely tears welling in the corners of green eyes that are drowned in pride and worry. Sam remembers smiling, yet the words fade into the dust of silence, and Dean smiles back. Maybe, that’s when the bud emerged from the dirt; although, he’s sure that it happened long before that moment.

 

There’s no use in contemplating over the reason; just accepting the fact that it does exist.

 

Dean _knows_ that Sam is staring at him. Boring holes that reveal every inch of his body, every thought that swims through his mind, consuming all that’s Dean in the depths of hazel.

 

It’s hormones. He told himself each year as his little brother grew inch by inch till he’s towering over him-only a couple inches, but still-like a giraffe. Yet, Sam’s still as slippery as a snake, slithering undetected until his arms are wrapped around Dean’s waist, resting his head in the crook of Dean’s neck. Sam’s hotter than the sun right now, clammy, while the puffs of air from his nose are cool and Dean thinks that he could melt in the comforting chill.

 

There’s a voice screaming in his head that their whole relationship is wrong and sinful. Yet in that wreckage, there are whispers of the need to protect, care for, and love.

 

“I bought some otter pops,” Dean says, hitching his breath as Sam’s tongue, smooth and wet, laps at the flap of sensitive skin. Sam’s never been this forward before, trusting Dean to take the wheel due to his tool belt of experience. He sets the forks down onto a pile of napkins; the soup will probably be warm even after hours have passed anyway.“Didn’t have any ice cream left at the gas station.”

 

Sam hums, stilling as if he were deliberating over something, before peeling away as the viscid skin pinches at the sudden tear. Traveling over to the mini fridge stored in the cabinets, Dean bends down into a squat and pulls the handle, a gust of frigid wind hitting him when he does. His eyes shut, absorbing the frostiness of the fridge-the owner will definitely become angry for wasting the electricity, although, he can’t seem to care right now-, nostrils enjoying the fresh air compared to the thick humidity beyond the tiny safe haven.

 

“Hey, don’t hog all of it.” His younger brother shuffles himself next to Dean-causing Dean to fall on his butt-as Sam sticks his head closer in the container, sighing in relief as he does so. Skin is touching skin again-the hairs lying flat-as they become stuck together from heat and perspiration. That’s when Dean remembers the otter pops. He snatches the box on the top shelf, tearing the cardboard open with his bare hands.

 

Half melted, rainbow-colored packaged ice lay inside-drops of water covering them as if they were sweating from the high temperature as well-, grabbing two of them from the stack. He hands the blue one to Sam, tearing plastic of the green one with his teeth. Dean sucks all the artificial lime liquid from within, savoring the sinking feeling of sugar and chill in his stomach. His eyes wander over to Sam’s blissful expression; his little brother’s head tilted backward, exposing his neck as the glimmering Adam's apple bobs to each slurp, draining the concoction. Dean doesn’t realize that his teeth are gritting the plastic until his younger brother glances over to him.

 

Dumping the empty wrapper to the ground, Sam’s attention transfer to Dean as he carefully yanks the otter pop out of his mouth with beady eyes that should be illegal at the age of 16. Damn, maybe this is why all the voices blasting in his head pour out his ear so easily; because his younger brother is stupidly irresistible.

 

Licking the tip of his tongue over plump, rosy lips, Sam leans into the gap between them, but it’s Dean that closes it.

 

Dean’s tongue explores the blue raspberry within the heated cavern, grabbing onto the locks of Sam’s matted, damp hair in moist fingers. Rough hands on hips keep Dean still-since when had his little brother become so strong-as Sam replies in an equal amount of furiosity, the two of them fighting for control. Pupils in hazel irises are blown out wide with cheeks flushed in a brilliant shade of red and Dean’s never seen anything more beautiful.  

 

He’s burning up from the inside out and he thinks that he might actually catch on fire.

 

As Dean tugs onto the strands of brown, Sam shuts his eyes and moans in his mouth, allowing more entrance like the pliant bitch he is.

 

Then those slippery hands are sliding down from Dean's waist to his ass and a finger is pressing into the crack between the cotton fabric and digging for-

 

“Too hot. No more kissing,” Dean pants, hands pushing at bony shoulders-since when had they become so broad-, shoving the box into Sam’s arms. “More otter pops.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm always up for chatting on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FantasyLoey) or [Tumblr](https://puppydeanandjen.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Feedback gives me fuel, so please feel free to leave some!


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